And just like that, the weather turned warm, the faeries beneath the earth’s crust pushed their backs against the grass and weeds, the greenery sprung up, the winged insects flew sorties off the decks of their craft, the world became filled with song, and here it is again, time to cut the grass. I couldn’t have asked for a better day to start this half-a-year activity. Seventy-two degrees, breezy, titanium-white clouds courtesy of Bob Ross, a stare-worthy sky of most regal blue. The morning wasn’t even halfway over when I looked outside my window at work and decided that today would be the day. Once home, I prepared the mower…